


Pursuit

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Chases, F/M, Foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 05:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: They both know he’ll catch her in the end, buthergame is about seeing how worked up she can get him in the meantime.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chellmibell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellmibell/gifts).



“Hey Estelle, did you take my—?”

Estelle’s form enters his vision and Yuri cuts himself off, freezing up in the doorway between the bedroom and ensuite bathroom as he sees how she’s clad in his familiar shade of black. He himself is in nothing but a white bathrobe now, since the clothes he’d left hanging on the door before he went in weren’t there when he finished his shower. Yuri figured then that maybe Estelle just took them out to do the laundry, but clearly, she’d had other ideas.

“Did you need something, Yuri?” Estelle drawls, slowly twirling around to give him a full 360 view. His outfit is obviously too big for her; his pants are sagging around her ankles, and she has tucked the open chest flaps of his shirt over each other for the sake of modesty, tied his belt tight around her waist to prevent slippage.

Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Cute,” he intones, fond but dry, before stretching his hand out. “Now come on, give them back. I gotta get dressed.”

Estelle puts her finger to her chin. “Mmmm, no.”

Yuri blinks. “No?”

Estelle mock-pouts, burying her hands into the collar of his shirt and tugging it up to her chin. “I don’t want to part with these. They’re comfortable.”

“They’re practically _sliding_ off of you.”

“Exactly. They’re roomy and non-restrictive.”

Yuri narrows his eyes. “Estelle,” he warns, taking a step towards her—but she promptly takes several steps backwards in turn.

“If you want them,” Estelle singsongs, “come get them.”

She’s whirling around before Yuri can even react, dashing out the open bedroom door and down the hall, a string of giggles trailing behind her. Yuri stands there gaping for all of two seconds before he snaps into motion himself, giving chase as he growls under his breath, “Oh, it is _so_ on.”

He leaps out into the corridor right as the blur of black and pink zooms down the stairs, and he pursues doggedly, touching down in the kitchen just in time to see his target slide behind the counter. Yuri advances towards the table but Estelle darts away in circular opposition, eyeing his every move, always keeping the island between them.

“You know you can’t keep this up,” Yuri calls, after twice failing to fake her out. That’s probably the point, though. They both know he’ll catch her in the end, but _her_ game is about seeing how worked up she can get him in the meantime.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Estelle shoots back, her impish smile still pasted on tight.

Though, it comes sliding right off her face once Yuri straight-up _vaults_ over the counter to lunge for her.

With a laughing squeal, Estelle dips to the side, just barely managing to evade his grasp and take off again. But Yuri has always been faster than her, and he doesn’t even need ten seconds to catch back up, his hand snagging her by the belt just as she crosses the boundary that marks entrance to the living room. Yuri yanks hard on the fabric, tugging Estelle back just enough so that he can wrestle her into his arms; he pounces them both onto the nearby couch and straddles her down on the cushions and huffs victoriously, “Gotcha, now hurry up and giv—!”

The belt that kept her covered up must have loosened when he pulled on it, because now it lies slack around her hip and his shirt is spread wide open, exposing her chest. The pinkish-brown of her peaked nipples stare boldly up at him, and the mere sight sends heat shooting through Yuri, heat that then begins to pool both in his face and between his thighs. He hesitates, just for a moment, just long enough to give Estelle the chance to entangle her hands in his hair—and she _slams_ his head down until he’s muffling his surprise against the soft curve between her breasts.

Estelle cackles, her chest rumbling with the sound. Yuri abruptly shakes her off, pushing himself back up to level her with a scowl.

“You cheeky little…!”

On impulse, Yuri shoves his hands up the stolen shirt, ruthlessly scribbling his fingertips over the skin of her sides—and it’s _his_ turn to grin when that sends her laughter peaking up towards the ceiling.

“Ah- _hah_ , nohohoo!” Estelle shrieks, positively _thrashing_ beneath him. “O-okay, you can have them back! I’m sorry!”

“Not sorry enough,” Yuri hisses, changing tactics so that he’s fluttering his fingers in the pits of her flailing arms, what he knows from experience to be her absolute _worst_ ticklish spot. Even as her screams heighten in pitch, increasingly gaining both volume and desperation, Yuri refuses to show mercy. She started this, she stole his clothes and led him on a chase, she teased him so much he’s gone and worked up a sweat after having _just_ taken a shower—so now, she’s going to pay for it until he’s vindicated.

Yuri is ruthless. He tickles Estelle until she’s red-faced, until she’s kicking fruitlessly and gasping out her protest between helpless laughs. She’s only barely able to still get words out when at last she begs, “I…I surrender, p-please! You win, Yuri, _you_ _win_!”

That last one comes out as a desperate whine, which tells Yuri she’s reached her limit. Satisfied that she’s been sufficiently punished, Yuri stills his fingers and lets her breathe, but he doesn’t get off. It takes a minute before he hears her breath steady out again, and though she strains a little against his hands, once he makes it clear that he still has no intentions of letting her go, she simply slumps back down against the plush.

“You win,” Estelle repeats, but her eyes are sparkling and her lips form a sly smile, and that tells him she’s not done just yet. She rolls her hips and lolls her head to the side in a way that can’t be anything but purposeful: her countenance open, welcoming, _offering_. “So go on, Yuri. Take your clothes back.”

…Oh.

_Oh_ , he just fell right into her trap, didn’t he?

Yuri bites his lip but does as he’s told, dragging the zipper of his own shirt down and out so that he can free her chest entirely. He lets his gaze linger on her breasts for a minute longer before shimmying down, sitting on her knees as he tugs the waistband of his own pants down past her hips. Red silk panties peek into view, proof that she _absolutely_ planned this, and though Estelle herself is silent, when he glares back up at her, her eyes are laughing at him.

Yuri’s not about to let her get away with that, but tickling her again would only be prolonging the inevitable, so this time, he chooses to punish her by zipping back up and planting his mouth to her neck. Delighting in the way she shudders and moans, he then shifts from suckling at her skin to biting down, his teeth vicious and vengeful, fully intent on leaving a mark.

“You think you’re so clever,” Yuri hisses once he pulls away. “You do realize I’m gonna have to take another shower after this, right? Damn waste of water.”

“Then let me take my shower together with you.” Estelle hums, even while still slightly breathless, and her hands begin undoing the simple tie of his bathrobe. “That should even it out.”

Yuri grunts, accommodating her by shrugging the robe open once it’s loose. He allows her a full frontal view of his naked body, watches as her eyes appreciatively explore, before he rests his hand down on her thigh. 

“I suppose,” Yuri murmurs, sliding his fingers beneath the fabric of her panties, “I can live with that.”


End file.
